Heart Shaped Wreckage
by arrow-through-my-writers-block
Summary: Oliver and Felicity are living in peace, Team Arrow no longer needed in Starling City. But when the League of Assassins come to recruit him only to be denied, they take Felicity instead, sending Oliver into a maddening race to save her before the League can dig their claws into everything he loves most about her. Wreckage series, part 1 (established Olicity, AU set after season 2.)
1. Don't wanna love anybody else

_Author's Note: This story just came to me. I have no idea what to do with it, or whether I'll continue, but I have the majority of it thought out. I feel like this might be a little intense for me to write... but if there's interest like there's been for my other major story, I may continue. So please review. _

_(This story came to me while listening to the song "Heart Shaped Wreckage" by Katherine McPhee and Jeremy Jordan. Damn that song.)_

_You are mine and I am yours._

They awoke in perfect bliss, wrapped in each others' arms with the sun streaking the sheets covering their naked bodies. The night before had been spent in nothing more than love-making; sighs and moans. They had repeatedly expressed the love they had recently been able to admit. They let the years of keeping themselves at safe distances rush away with each kiss and each touch, banishing their fears. Oliver hadn't felt so free. So alive. So in love. And he knew Felicity felt the same.

He stared into her eyes, admiring every aspect of her beauty. He had, for so long, ignored her appealing qualities. He had been much too afraid to admit he found her attractive. He had once told her he could never be with someone he truly cared for, but now with the early morning sun peeking through the blinds and drenching her blonde hair in golden light, he wondered how he had been able to remain serious and believable. All he had wanted was her, but he was unwilling to tell her the truth. He wondered how she hadn't been able to see through his cold facade.

Felicity blinked slowly, signaling to him in the cutest and most simple of ways that she wanted more affection. He pulled her closer and kissed the tip of her nose. She let out a small giggle that brouht a smile to his lips and he brought his hand down to the small of her back, forcing her body even closer. He felt her relax into him, and then felt her fingers trace shapes along the length of his spine. He glanced down to find her biting her lip, eyes closed. Quickly the desire that had filled their entire night returned in full force.

He leaned in and kissed her lips, gently at first, then with great force. She returned the intensity in equal measure, slowly bringing her hands down to parts of his body longing to be touched. He did the same, listening to her every sigh and moan. Soon he found her on top of his, her legs spread wide, welcoming him.

This bout of pleasure seemed to last an eternity, as the times before had. By the end, their bodies glistened with sweat and their hearts were beating rapidly. They collapse beside one another, snuggling into their pillows with their hands intertwined tightly. Oliver watched her doze off like a cat basking in the sun. He watched until she opened her eyes once more and grinned at his obvious obsession.

"What?" she asked, blushing slightly.

"You're beautiful."

"Shut up," Felicity whispered playfully.

"I'm serious," Oliver said. "I wish I had told you that before."

"I think you told me that enough last night, Oliver."

They chuckled and cuddled, their bodies warming from the closeness. He knew they had admitted, through their intimacy the words they'd so long kept unspoken. _But did we say them?_

He watched her sleep, nestled against his shoulder. He stroked her hair and admired its softness. When the silence felt too heavy and overwhelming, he shook her shoulder. "Felicity?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

Slowly she lifted her head to look at him. Her eyes quickly filled with tears that never fell, and her smiled wide. "I've waited so long to hear you say those words," she said, followed by: "I didn't wanna say them first in case it made me seem desperate."

Oliver laughed, then touched her cheek. "So you feel the same?"

"Oh. Yes!" She shifted forward to kiss his lips lightly. "I love you, Oliver."

* * *

Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. They cherished each moment they had, understanding the risks. Even as the city grew safer and safer, they remained cautious. They didn't trust the calm, believing it was signaling for a storm to begin. But nothing happened. No villains hatched plans of destruction. No criminals risked the wrath of the Green Arrow.

The time went on and they slowly relaxed. They spent each night together, rarely staying late at the lair. They went out on dates, enjoying the normalcy of being together out in the world for all to see. Eventually, Oliver moved into Felicity's home, the transition natural with all the time he spent there. He didn't miss the family mansion, which had been lost long ago along with his fortune. He had survived much worse than loss of money. With Felicity by his side, it didn't matter how much money he had. Even when he slowly began to gain his worth back and the family business came back under his name, their simple life together was all he cared about.

Within a year of their reliationship beginning, Team Arrow was no longer needed. The city was safe. The police force had all illegal activity under control, trusting the A.R.G.U.S. facility on Lian Yu would keep the most dangerous villains out of commission.

But all of them had forgotten one threat; one challenger to their peace.

The League of Assassins.

They came to Oliver and Felicity's home while they prepared dinner, enjoying the process of creating a dish from scratch. They didn't hear the door open, nor the collection of footsteps rushing through the living room and blocking their exits. They didn't notice the darkly clothed figures until one spoke, a deep voice shattering their domestic dream.

"Oliver Queen."

Oliver tensed, his heart stopping for a moment as he recognized the accent twisting the words. He turned to see the masked men standing straight and confident. "What are you doing here?" Oliver asked, stepping in front of Felicity protectively. She rested a hand on his shoulder.

"To collect you. We're in need of your skills. Ra's al Ghul longs for your loyalty. We must not fail him."

Oliver's hands clenched into fists and his jaw tightened. "I'm not joining the League."

The men remained stone still except for the one speaking. He stepped forward and pointed. "It's you or her, Oliver Queen."

Oliver turned slightly, looking behind him at Felicity. He felt all of his anger rush up and out. "She's not yours to take!" he exclaimed.

"If you don't go, we'll take what's keeping you here."

"I won't allow you to."

"So be it."

The Assassins had no weapons. They had come with the knowledge that Oliver had given up his role as the Green Arrow. They shifted into position for a fight. Oliver felt his heart sink. He stood no chance alone, but he had to try. _I'm not going with them and they're not taking Felicity. _

The leader crept forward and struck Oliver with a fist hard as stone. It had been so long since his last fight, and the blow struck him in the arm he used to shield his face. They exchanged a flurry of punches and kicks, remaining equals. Soon, more Assassins joined their leader, surrounding them. They stood in silent vigil, giving confidence to al Ghul's messenger. The fight continued on, with Oliver dealing and receiving punch after punch. Soon he was down, blood trickling from his lower lip. He glanced up and behind him, longing to see Felicity's supportive yet worried smile, but he found nothing. She was gone.

"Where is she?"

"Long gone."

"What'd you do?"

"Like I promised, we have taken what is keeping you here. Say good-bye to your lover, Oliver Queen. Soon she won't be the same."


	2. I can't fix this on my own

_I can't fix this on my own._

Oliver remained on the kitchen floor, tears streaking his face and mixing with the blood on his lips. A powerful ache coursed through his chest, making circuits around his heart. _Did she scream? How did I not hear her? How did I not notice?_

He replayed the encounter in his head, cursing himself for not remaining fit and practiced; he cursed himself for not remaining alert. But such things wouldn't bring Felicity back. She was in the hands of Ra's al Ghul. If she wasn't completely lost already, it would only be a matter of time. The thought brought on a new flood of tears. He closed his eyes and collapsed.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, curled up in a ball on the floor until he opened his eyes and saw that the once bright sunset-filled sky was dark, the only light being the streetlamps shining through the windows. He sat up and sighed, feeling that ache still, regardless of it dulling. Oliver propped himself up against the cabinet behind him, feeling the firmness of the wood against his stiff back. _Why didn't I keep training? Keep fighting...? _

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cell phone. For so long he had refrained from calling anyone in an emergency. Mainly due to the simple fact that there had been no emergencies to call about. He pressed the old speed-dial and listened to the automatic dialing, followed by John Diggle's name and photo popping up onto the screen. It took three rings before he picked up.

"This is Diggle."

"John," Oliver mumbled, his voice cracking on the name.

A brief silence met Oliver, followed by: "What's wrong?" Diggle's worried tone made Oliver lose composure. For a couple minutes he remained silent, sobbing into the phone. "Oliver, please... what happened?"

"She's gone."

"Who? Felicity? What do you mean?"

"They took her."

"Who?" Diggle asked.

Oliver breathed in deeply, trying to calm away his sobs. Slowly he spoke the words. "The League of Assassins."

* * *

They met in the old lair, finding it dusty and cold. All the equipment remained, untouched for months. Looming above them, the salmon ladder stood invitingly. Oliver remembered taking out his rage on the ladder, propelling himself up and down with the force of his strength. He doubted he could make it to the top now.

John sat in his old chair, frowning. He didn't come over to hug Oliver. He didn't offer kind words. He simply said: "How are we gonna get her back?"

"I don't know," Oliver replied, helplessly. He felt the way he had upon his mother's death. Empty. Useless. Cowardly. "If I had agreed to join the League, they would not have taken her."

"But then Felicity would be sitting right there in your shoes, wondering how to get _you_ back."

Oliver looked up, finding Diggle grinning in the smug way he always had. _He's right._

After a few minutes of silence, Diggle said: "How much do you know about the League, exactly?"

Oliver thought, digging up the memories from the island and the few details Sara had told him before she left with Nyssa. He shook his head. "Not enough to hunt them down," he mumbled. "Their location is unknown, members anonymous apart from Nyssa and Ra's al Ghul."

Diggle nodded. "Wouldn't Nyssa try to stop this whole thing? Doesn't she have a say?"

Oliver thought about it, recalling what he knew of Nyssa. "She might be Heir to the Demon, but that doesn't make her anything more than a soldier. Perhaps just one who is a little more trusted."

"Have you heard from Sara at all?"

Oliver shook his head. "Not since she left." He thought about Sara. They had so much history and so much connecting them, which made nothing add up. "Why wouldn't Sara warn me?"

"Maybe she didn't know," Diggle suggested. They shared a glance, knowing deep down that something was off. With a grunt, Diggle stood and walked over to the computers and carefully switched them on. Oliver winced, feeling the dull ache in his chest. The emptiness that had been forced upon him.

Seeing the monitors glowing and hearing the sound of electronic hums sent him into a new wave of grief. _These are hers..._

"Oliver," Diggle said, breaking him out of his agony. "We have a lot of research to do."

* * *

_Sorry for the short update after such a lengthy break. I just felt the need to update with something -anything- before really delving into all the stuff with Felicity and the League. Yes. This story is going to involve loads of Felicity inside the League. So stay tuned! _


	3. I can't find you in the dark

_I can't find you in the dark._

Felicity awoke to the sound of screams. For a small moment she mistook the screams for Oliver's, but then she realized that was impossible. _They killed him. They had to have killed him, _she thought with certainty. _They never would have been able to take me otherwise. _Then she understood. It had been a nightmare.

The stone floor was cold beneath her, and wet from trickling water falling through cracks in the ceiling. She shivered as she lifted herself up and took in her surroundings. _A prison cell... of course. _She looked around the small space, finding tiny barred sections along the floor. _Drains? _She found the only way in and out of the cell to be a thick metal door with no bars and no openings. The only sources of light came through a small gap between the door and floor, and a lengthy crack running across one stone wall. From the muted quality of the light, she could tell it was night. The air was thin, but she'd unknowling been breathing it in long enough for her body to adapt. _I must be at a higher elevation. _She sighed. "What am I supposed to do?"

She sat against one wall for what seemed an eternity, recounting her kidnapping. She knew they had knocked her out; there was no other way for her to have gone with them quietly. _Oliver..._

Her thoughts went to Oliver and everything she loved about him. She quickly found her eyes leaking tears, and they could not be stopped. She shook with the force of her tears and she wrapped her arms around her knees to hold herself together.

She was unsure how long she cried. It must have been hours. Suddenly an angry knock reverberated from the other side of the wall, followed by a voice that shouted: "Stop your sobbing. That won't help you here."

For a second Felicity contemplated yelling at her fellow prisoner. _Who are you to decide what will help me or not!? _But then recognition hit her. _Wait. I know that voice, _she thought, then spoke aloud. "Sara?"

Silence followed for a few minutes, then was broken by a laugh. A laugh filled with crazed hysteria. "Felicity Smoak?"

Felicity nodded at first, then remembered she was in a dark cell with thick stone walls. _She can't see you. _"Yes."

"What happened? Where's Oliver?"

Felicity's tears began once more, followed by hiccups that wouldn't cease. "Some Assassins... showed up at our home... demanding that Oliver... come with them... and Oliver refused... They... said they'd take... him or me. Oliver refused to... go. They began... to... fight," Felicity said, followed by one last hiccup before she spoke one last sentence: "That's all I remember."

She refrained from speaking her greatest fear, and Sara did not let the words ruin the quiet that stretched between them. Felicity wiped her face, then held her face in her hands.

"Felicity," Sara whispered, and Felicity removed her hands from her face, discovering a thick crack at the bottom of the wall between their cells. She saw Sara's hand reaching in, and she took it without hesitation. "Oliver is alive. I promise you. He's alive."

Their hands met and their icy fingers locked. New tears rushed down Felicity's cheeks and fell to mix with the moisture on the ground. "How can you be so sure?"

With an audible sigh, Sara said: "Because they plan to use you."

Felicity let that sink in for a moment, but her confusion got the better of her. "I'm not exactly well-versed in the rhetoric of the League, so please explain. What do they plan to use me for?"

Sara let out a cynical chuckle. "Felicity, there are only two outcomes I see to this whole thing. The first one would be that they plan to use you as bait to bring Oliver into the League." Sara hesitated with the next option, reminding Felicity of how careful she once was about sharing information. "The second one is a lot scarier, and will be the most tragic," Sara whispered with a sigh.

"What is it?" Felicity asked, feeling her heart pounding in her chest and echoing in her ears. _Do I really wanna know?_

"The second outcome would be that... well... They could be planning to train you as an assassin to kill Oliver for his unwillingness to join."

Felicity laughed, unable to control herself. "Yeah. Right. Like I'd ever do that." But her hands began to shake, and she knew deep down that the League would use whatever means necessary to force her into whatever fit their goal.

"Felicity, you have no idea what the League is capable of."

* * *

For hours Felicity and Sara spoke quietly with their faces pressed against the crack in the wall.

"What do you mean? How can something be wrong with the League. You're all assassins. I'd say there was already something wrong with it," Felicity chuckled at her observation.

"Felicity," Sara began, her voice full of seriousness and patience. "The League runs by a twisted code of honor. But... somehow things have gone wrong. I've never personally interacted with Ra's al Ghul, but a few months ago, he called Nyssa to him. She returned to me with news they were looking to recruit Oliver by whatever means necessary. She and I refused without hesitation. Once more, Nyssa was called to her father's side. I haven't seen her since." From the crack in the wall, Felicity could see an outline of Sara's face, and the pain she witnessed mirrored her own. "All I know is shortly after she left, I was forced into this cell and I've heard nothing of Nyssa."

"I'm sure she's not dead," Felicity whispered, attempting to feed Sara optimism in the same way Sara had to her. "Why would her own father kill her?"

"She openly opposed him, Felicity. That is not allowed within the League. If you don't carry out a mission or assassination, you're done."

* * *

Soon Sara fell asleep, leaving Felicity alone. Even with her friend on the other side of the wall, Felicity had never felt so alone in her life; even the experience of her father leaving paled in comparison to the blackness of her cell and the uncertainty of Oliver's fate. She knew she would never find rest or sleep.

Though sleep remained a stranger, she still dreamed. She dreamed of her last night with Oliver. She recalled their laughter, their kisses and their love-making. She recalled the wonderful feeling of her hands brushing across his muscles and the intense sensation of his fingers tracing her every curve. He knew what she loved, and vice versa. Their connection was more than simple sexuality. Love ruled every aspect of their lives.

_No wonder they took me._


	4. I don't know much, but I know myself - 1

_I don't know much, but I know myself_

Oliver watched Amanda Waller pacing, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed. It had been a few minutes since he brought his situation to her attention. Beside him, Diggle was growing impatient. Oliver remained quiet and amiable, well aware that one wrong move would send Waller in the wrong direction; anything negative from them would result in negative from her.

Oliver took in Waller's office as he waited. It was pristine and in complete order. Everything had a place and nothing seemed unnecessary; no artwork hung on the walls and no photos rested on the desk. The walls and shelves were only decorated with medals and certificates from Waller's missions. Many of the medals weren't hers, but those of her fallen partners. These mementos gave Oliver a new understanding of Amanda Waller's abrasive demeanor. _She's lost many people as well..._

Finally, Waller cleared her throught and ceased her pacing. When she turned to look at Oliver and Diggle, they found her eyes filled with sympathy. "I feel for you, Oliver. I truly do," she began, her voice thick with emotion she was holding back. "I wish I could give you the help you need."

"You mean you can't help me at all?"

"I didn't say that, Oliver." For a few seconds, they stared at one another. Then she continued. "I can't send my teams against the League. I can't lose them. I can't send the Suicide Squad after them either. None of them would return, and villains like them are much too rare. They may be expendable, but I can't afford to hunt more of them down to replenish the team."

"Waller, we need something," Diggle shouted, his patience having run dry. Oliver held up a hand to silence his friend and was met with a whispered: "Oliver, this was a mistake."

"I understand that it is much too risky to send out your teams to help me rescue Felicity," Oliver began, his eyes resting on one medal in particular. It was paired with the only photograph in the room. A much younger Waller was standing next to a tall and handsome soldier. Both of them were in full uniform, but their smiles were bright and optimistic. The photo reminded him of the last year with Felicity. He sighed. "But I know you've lost many people as well. I know you've lost people close to you. Please, help me somehow. I'd be forever grateful."

Oliver and Amanda Waller locked eyes, and between them they exchanged their pain. It only took a few moments for Amanda to cave. "All right, Oliver," she said in a tone of surrender, something neither Oliver nor Diggle had ever heard from her. "All I'll promise is that we'll keep track of known assassins and keep a look out for new ones. It is likely they will use Felicity as a weapon, so it may be that she'll take on a few hits before going after you."

They thought sent a painful surge through Oliver. He closed his eyes to stifle the ache and saw Felicity's smiling face on the other side of his eyelids. If the League dug its teeth into Felicity, he'd lose everything he loved most about her: her innocence, charm and awkwardness. He opened his eyes and answered: "That's all I can hope for, Amanda. Thank you. Keep me updated, please."

Waller spoke no more, simply nodded and gestured for them to leave.

* * *

Felicity was curled into a ball, striving and failing to maintain any warmth she could against the cold floor. She was unsure how long she'd been left in the cell. Neither her nor Sara were sure of the date or even the hour; the darkness sucked out all knowledge of time.

She kept her eyes open. She feared the nightmares she'd see if she were to fall asleep. The nightmares never ceased. She was unsure how long it had been since she'd slept, but she knew she was heading into some strange of mental instability as a result. _How long can the mind survive without sleep before it deteriorates? _Felicity silently questioned, but those old facts and numbers eluded her. _Fuck. I'm losing everything. _Tears welled up in her eyes, burning. She shook her head quickly an blinked the moisture away. _I will not sleep. _

After days without food, water or sleep Felicity was beginning to lose her resolve. Sara repeatedly explained that this was one of the League's torture tactics. Get the prisoner as weak as possible before attempting conversion. As strong as Felicity often felt, she feared she'd lose her personal fight against the League.

Suddenly the silence was interrupted by one heavy pair of boots stopping in front of her door, followed by the clink of metal keys colliding against one another. _Shouldn't assassins be more quiet?_

The sound awakened Sara, and her voice rang out from next door. "Don't take her! Take me! End my misery!"

"Shut up, traitor. You'll have your turn. The Demon's Head has his own plans for you. Right now he has need of Miss Smoak."

"She's useless. What need could he have for her?"

"I said shut up. You are no longer Ta-er al-Asfer."

Sara grew quiet at the name, and Felicity knew that part of her identity had been stolen from her. She worried for Sara, but she knew that her first priority was fighting for herself. She stood ready for the door to open, her fists clenched into fists.

With a creak, the door opened to reveal an assassin in black garb holding a flaming torch. The sudden light blinded Felicity, but she quickly blinked the pain away and stood strong in the face of the man. He inched into the cell and grabbed for Felicity's arm. She dug into her memory for what little self-defense she had learned from Diggle and tried to evade the grasp by force. The assassin was well-trained and stopped Felicity with very little effort. He overcame her struggles and was soon leading her out of the cell and down a dank stone hallway lined with dozens of cells.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked after a few minutes.

"The Demon's Head."

It only took a few more minutes to come upon a set of giant wooden doors carved with terrifying scenes. Looks like it's straight out of Dante's Inferno...

The doors opened as if on their own and she was pushed into a great hall filled with roaring braziers. Tapestries covered the walls, depicting the same sort of scenes as the doors. Shadows filled each corner, dressed in dark robes and well-armed.

At the end of the room sat a commanding figure on a exquisite throne fashioned in the shape of a giant, howling demon. The figure tapped it's fingers impatiently, which signaled her captor to push her forward abruptly. The figure on the throne was dressed much the same as the other assassins, but his face was hidden by a deep hood. From the depths of the fabric, a coarse voice spoke.

"You are Felicity Smoak."

Without hesitation, she nodded.

"Soon you will not be."

* * *

_Author's Note: I didn't expect to update twice within one 24 hour period, and certainly not so close together, but I felt the need to keep going. Getting you guys closer to the truth about Ra's al Ghul and Nyssa's disappearance is important to me. Please review and leave me any feedback you'd like. I'd love to know how you guys are feeling about this story. Thanks! _


	5. I don't know much, but I know myself - 2

_I don't know much, but I know myself_

_Part Two_

"You can't change who I am!" Felicity shouted, feeling a strange sense of courage in the presence of Ra's al Ghul. _This can't be normal._

Her thoughts were confirmed when the many shadows standing about gasped and whispered amongst themselves. In front of her, the figure on the throne let out a coarse, booming laugh that echoed throughout the hall. His hood shook with each burst of laughter and threatened to slip. But the man soon quieted and all at once grew completely still; so still he could have been a statue. Then he spoke.

"Oh, sweet Felicity. You don't understand what you're up against," he said, and the room filled with chuckles from the other assassins. "If you resist, we'll break you. Isn't that right?" He gestured to the room, and every shadow lifted a fist and chanted.

"Yes, Great Sensei!"

She knew very little about Ra's al Ghul or the League, but she'd never heard the name Sensei used for him. He was a great master and teacher of the skills his organization was most famous for, but he was the Demon's Head. A title much more iconic and important than that of a sensei.

"As you can see, Felicity, it is most advantageous to submit to your fate than resist. Being a part of this family is an honor. Right?"

"Yes, Great Sensei!"

"I want to go home," Felicity whimpered. Her hands were shaking, and every bit of courage she felt moments before trickled away into hiding deep within her. She felt weak and alone.

"This is your home now, child."

* * *

They took her to a dining hall and allowed her a simple meal of stew and a large mug of hot green tea. She cherished every slurp of the stew and sip of the tea, feeling her stomach expand after so long without sustenance. Once she emptied both, they took her back to her cell. Before closing the door, they tossed in a crude waterskin. "Thank you," she whispered.

Once the sound of their footsteps were gone, Sara spoke up. "What happened? Tell me everything."

Felicity recalled every moment of her audience with Ra's al Ghul, finishing with the strange name and chant. "What does that mean?"

"Oh god," Sara mumbled, her voice stricken with sobs almost instantly. "That was not Ra's al Ghul, Felicity."

"What do you mean? They said they were taking me to the Demon's Head. How could it not be Ra's?"

It took a few minutes for Sara to compose herself. "That name, Sensei, is cursed among the League. It is not one to be praised or followed. Ra's al Ghul would never fashion himself as such a man. Which leaves only one answer." She let the tension hang in the air, as if for dramatic effect. "The villainous Sensei is back."

* * *

On the sparring mats, Oliver parried every blow Diggle sent his way. It gave him confidence that he was able to keep up after such a length of time without practice. He was getting back into shape; he no longer felt sluggish or out-of-breath during their sparring, and he could almost make it to the top of the salmon ladder with ease. _All I need to do now is find her... _

"All right, Oliver," Diggle said through gritted teeth as he threw out one last attack. "I think we're done for the day."

"Not getting tired, are you?"

Diggle sighed as he wiped his forehead with a towel. "Not by a long-shot. However, I do have a kid at home waiting for me."

Oliver nodded. "Right. Enjoy the rest of your night, Digg."

As Diggle slipped into his coat, he turned back to Oliver. They locked eyes for a few moments and Oliver made an effort to seem chipper. _Do I even know how to be chipper? What does chipper even look like? _He felt his lips spread into a smile and he hoped he was convincing.

He clearly wasn't.

"Are you gonna be okay here, Oliver?"

Oliver nodded, turning to eye the makeshift bed he hadn't used in over a year. "Of course," he said as he turned to face his friend once more. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Diggle grinned half-heartedly. "I know this is hard. Please, just try to be patient."

"I know. I'm trying," Oliver answered, finally letting himself tell the truth. "Have a good night, Digg."

He waited for Diggle to leave before he hopped up to grasp the bar of the salmon ladder. He let himself hang there for a few moments, then propelled himself up. With each clang of the bar against the rungs, he recalled glimpses of Felicity eyeing him; some of the glances were of fascination and others were of lust. He cherished each one. At the rung just before the top, he imagined Felicity in bed. Her blonde hair was spread out around her atop the satin sheets. She bit her bottom lip as she stifled a moan, but she never broke his gaze. She reached up for a kiss and suddenly Oliver was falling.

His hands lost their grasp on the bar and he fell through the air, quickly landing on the sparring mats below. His back ached and his arms spasmed. Distracted by the daydream, he must have stayed in one rung too long without moving. His palms were slick with sweat.

He stared at the ceiling, recalling a time when he and Felicity had cuddled next to one another on those same mats, naked and sweating. He remembered the tear trickling from the corner of her eye. He had wiped it away with his thumb, then kissed her cheek.

"Why are you crying?" he had asked, concern brushing away his joy.

"I'm just so happy," she had answered, followed by a laugh. He had watched her smile fade as seriousness filled her expressions. "I'm just so happy to finally be yours."

The memory of their first time together sent a wave of grief over Oliver. He was unprepared for the sensation. He continued to stare up at the ceiling through tear filled eyes. "And I'm so happy to be yours..."

* * *

_Author's Note: Once again, another update within the same 24 hour period. Oh my! I hope you liked this chapter and are piecing together the truth behind the League. If you know who has taken over as the Demon's Head, please write about it in your review. I hope I'm doing the League justice. And I hope you're enjoying this story. Please review with feedback. I'd love suggestions or just simple comments. Thanks for reading!_


	6. I don't know much, but I know myself - 3

_Author's Note: Yes yes, I know how terrible I am for not updating this story in forever. I should have done it so much sooner. Let's just say the LoA plotline in this third season has definitely given me renewed inspiration for this story! I know this chapter is short, but I didn't want to move forward with the story when I reached the point where I ended it. It was too tragically perfect. Please leave reviews! I thrive on them! _

* * *

_I don't know much, but I know myself _

_Part Three_

It did not take long for the guards to grow tired of Felicity and Sara's exchanges and plotting. With orders from the Great Sensei, Felicity was dragged, kicking and screaming and babbling, to another cell. It was larger, scattered with braziers similar to those in the great hall. She was chained to the floor in the center of the room, one large window sending in light to greet her deprived skin. "What is this?" she screamed, tugging at the chain, the manacles scraping against her skin. The links jingled and clinked against one another. "What are you going to do?"

The hooded guard stood tall and stiff and imposing over her. "Break you."

She spat toward his boots, hoping to get a reaction from him. "Like hell you are!"

He didn't respond or react. He simply stood there, watching her, his eyes hidden in the depths of his hood. _Must be easy to do atrocious things when the victims can't see your face!_

The fires in the braziers crackled and shadows flickered on the walls, in time with the dancing flames. She tried to see out the window but the glass was frosted, leaving the world outside a mystery. Soon she grew tired of fighting against the chains and she collapsed into a ball on the cold floor, cradling her head in her arms, hiding her face.

She drifted off, dreams flitting across her subconscious and disturbing her rest. She would wake up in starts, her heart pounding and sweat moistening her brow. _I guess I will get no rest here._

Hours ticked by, though she knew her watch was incorrect. Day and night melted together, holding no meaning to her. Locked in a cell, she couldn't truly enjoy the light or the darkness. A few days later, during the guards' hourly switch, they extinguished the braziers with buckets of water, the flames sputtering out with vengeful hisses. Almost instantly the cell grew cold and the excess water pooled and trickled toward her. She moved around, trying to escape it but the chains hindered her progress and soon her clothes were damp. The chill in the air mixed with the wetness and created shivers that coursed through her body, causing her teeth to chatter. After another hour, the guards left entirely.

She was alone. She was hungry. She was thirsty. She was cold. And the silence was terrifying.

* * *

She sang their song quietly to herself, desperate for noise and companionship and conversation. But no one was there to speak to her. No one was there to listen to her usual babbles and rants. So she sang, her voice shaking and cracking with each word. Her chapped lips felt swollen, stinging with each lyric. But she continued, unwilling to fall into silence. It was too much.

She rocked back and forth, her arms wrapped around her legs and her head propped on her knees. Her eyes were closed. She resisted the urge to tug at her hair. _Crazy people tug their hair out in situations like this. I am not crazy. I am a genius. I am a bitch with wifi. I am Felicity Smoak. _

But somewhere inside her, the conviction and sense of self was wavering, diminishing with each hour. Especially at night, when the darkness took over and swallowed all of her forced cheer. At night, she couldn't fight the despair. At night, she couldn't fight the fear. At night, she lost her hope.

She didn't know how long she had been left alone without food or water or human contact, but it was long enough. When a guard finally arrived with a plate of bread and a goblet of water, she almost kissed his boots. _Are those the same ones I spat on? _Even if she truly wanted to know, the hood kept the answer hidden. She lifted the soft bread to her nose and sniffed, savoring the hearty scent. She ripped it apart with her teeth and chewed it like a hungry animal. Once the bread was devoured, she brought the goblet to her lips and gulped the water down, her throat finally getting the relief it so desperately needed.

Once the water was gone, the guard took the plate and goblet away, leaving her alone once more.

It hit quickly, fogging her mind like the distortion on the glass. She tried to sing the song but the lyrics slowly disappeared from her memory, one by one. She shook her head, trying to clear it.

"I am Felicity Smoak. Bitch with wifi. Genius. I am not crazy."

The words spilled out, echoing off the walls and back at her. When they reached her ears, they sounded unfamiliar. The voice sounded unfamiliar. Shrill and panicked and scared. She was stronger than that.

"I am Felicity Smoak! Bitch with wifi! Genius! I am not crazy!"

She rocked back and forth, repeating the words... screaming them. The angry echoed assault met her ears and she felt nothing. _But... those were my words, right?_

She glanced around. _Or... is someone else... no... I am alone._

"I am Felicity Smoak! I am Felicity Smoak! I am Felicity... I am Feli... I..."

She closed her eyes and continued to rock. She muttered the last lyrics of the song she could remember, finding them unfinished and soon unknown to her. When she opened her eyes hours later, she found the world darker. She held up her hands, inspecting the manacles around her wrists in the fading light. _Why...?_

"I am..." she murmured, her heart pounding in her ears. "I am..."

Her brow furrowed as she looked around, not knowing where she was. Tears formed in her eyes.

"Who am I?"


	7. I don't know much, but I know myself - 4

_Author's Note: I'm so surprised that this story still has a little following after how long I went without updating! I hope you'll continue with it. These chapters are short, I know, but I do that on purpose. But after this one, all other chapters will be much longer. I promise. Please don't forget to leave a review! I thrive on all support and opinions!_

* * *

_I don't know much, but I know myself _

_Part Four_

The call came in the middle of the night, waking Oliver from fitful sleep scattered with nightmares. Nightmares he feared were coming true. Nightmares he never thought he would see becoming real.

"Hello?" he answered, his voice low and groggy.

"Oliver, we've found something," Waller said without preamble, causing him to bolt upright in bed and his muscles to tense.

"What did you find?"

"You'll have to come to headquarters, Oliver. But Diggle has already been informed to join you. Lyla's intel brought all of this to light."

It didn't take long for him to arrive at A.R.G.U.S. headquarters with his fists clenched. The computers and other tech buzzed and hummed around him as he walked through the massive intelligence room, each member of the organization eyeing him warily. He had a reputation, and he knew no one felt comfortable in his presence. If only they knew how useless I am right now.

He entered a long corridor that ended with Waller's office, finding Diggle an Lyla there waiting.

"I'm sorry for what we're going to share with you," Lyla said, bowing her head.

"That bad, huh?" Oliver said, humorlessly.

"It'll be fine, Oliver," Digg said, clapping him on the shoulder. It was meant to be encouraging but really felt hopeless.

They walked into the office to find Waller staring at a map, multiple marks scattered across it. "What's the news?" Oliver asked, giving her the same abrupt delivery she had given him over the phone.

She turned and motioned for them to have a seat in front of her desk, but none of them moved. Oliver was too on edge to sit, and he knew it was obvious to everyone in the room. It air was charged with the unspoken news and the fear Oliver felt. No one moved. No one spoke. They just waited for the information. "Do you want to share the news, Lyla, or should I?"

Lyla cleared her throat. "I think you'll have an easier time, Amanda."

Waller grinned. "Perhaps." She sat behind her desk and then handed Oliver some photos. Oliver rifled through them, seeing the same images. A man in his early fifties, hooded, followed closely by Nyssa. After a few minutes, he tossed them onto the desk and sighed.

"Okay...? What does this mean?"

"The man in those photos is Ra's al Ghul. According to our sources, he no longer rules the League."

Oliver shook his head. "That's impossible. They took Felicity under the orders of the Demon's Head. Ra's al Ghul. They said his name."

"I will repeat myself only once more, Oliver. Ra's al Ghul no longer rules the League. He is on the run with his daughter, Nyssa Raatko. Someone has taken over the League."

"From what we can tell, Sara Lance is still in with the League," Lyla continued. "Whether that is as a member or as a prisoner, we are unsure. There have been no signs of Felicity, either."

"There's only one man who has ever taken the League." Waller stared Oliver down, her own fear and nervousness evident in her eyes. "Sensei."

"Sensei?" Diggle asked, his lips turning up in a mocking smile. "As in master? Teacher? Doesn't sound all that bad."

Waller chuckled. "Don't be so sure. There are no records of this man except for some ancient texts referring to him as the father of the Demon."

Oliver's mouth dropped. "Are you saying he is Ra's al Ghul's father?"

Waller nodded. "Yes. And if Ra's is terrified of his own father, you can understand how dire this situation is."

Oliver began to pace, his fists clenching and unclenching in a precise pattern, never faltering. His anger had to be kept under control. What did Felicity used to do when she babbled? Count to three? One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three. But the counting didn't help. Soon his pacing grew more violent and he rounded on a wall, punching blindly. His hand embedded into the plaster, scratching his knuckles.

"Well, now that that's out of the way, can we proceed?" Waller asked, unamused.

"What's the plan?" Oliver turned back to face Waller, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill out.

"There is no plan."

Oliver's head whipped toward Diggle and Lyla, finding their expressions hopeless. "What do you mean there isn't a plan? We have to get her back!" When he returned his gaze to Waller, he found her shaking her head, thumbing through papers.

"She is none of our concern. While I agreed to keep an eye on known assassins, I never agreed to send out teams. If you recall, I told you I can't afford to. What you choose to do with this information is up to you. This organization will take no part in it."

And with that, the meeting was over. Oliver knew when not to test Waller's patience, and he was too close to losing the chance at more intel. He took a deep breath and calmed his nerves as best he could, reminding himself to be amiable. The one thing Waller seemed to respond to. "Will you continue to give me leads?"

After a moment's hesitation, Waller nodded. "That's all I can give, same as before."

* * *

The sound of staffs colliding against one another filled the training hall, ricocheting off the walls and masking the continuous crackling of the braziers. The flames cast the assassins' shadows onto the walls and tapestries, each one dancing the violent dance. None of them wore their hoods. All were open in the depths of Nanda Parbat now that their newest recruit had undergone initiation. And she had blossomed in the three weeks since her moment of clarity.

Her blonde hair flashed against the flickering light as she moved, fluid and deadly. If she could feel pride, she would. Her skill with every preferred weapon of the League were better than most and she was quicker than even the youngsters.

With each block and thrust, she tired her opponent. This was just practice, but her tactics were serious and precise. Her steps in the dance were planned and deliberate.

Suddenly the doors opened and the Great Sensei entered, his robe trailing behind him and his sword hanging from the belt on his hip. Her and her opponent ceased their violent dance and bowed.

"Rise," the Great Sensei said, his voice loud even when softly used. "Sarab, please leave us."

"Yes, Great Sensei," Sarab answered, then left with the rest of the assassins. The doors closed and all was quiet.

She kept her eyes low, unwilling to look upon his face.

"Who are you, my dear?"

"I am your servant," she answered, bowing once more, eyes locked on the cold stone floor.

"No, what is your name?" When she did not answer right away, he changed the question. "Are you Felicity Smoak?"

She stood to her full height, her hands trembling at the mention of the name. She shook her head, feeling a strange sense of longing and anger and fear. She bit the side of her cheek, sending the emotions away as quickly as they had arrived.

"What is your name, then?"

"Nuri," she answered, eyes rising to meet his ancient gray ones, so powerful and terrifying. "I am Nuri."

He smiled in approval. "And what does that mean?"

"I am your light, Great Sensei."

"Yes, you are. And what a wonderful light you have become." He began to circle her, his hands resting upon the hilt of his sword, almost affectionately. She admired the touch. "You have flourished in your training and acceptance of your identity. Now I will give you a mission – your first mission."

"I am grateful for your trust, Great Sensei."

"There is one more individual I would like to add to my ranks. A man of great importance. His name is Oliver Queen."

"You want me to bring this man before you?"

"Yes, child." He stepped forward, leaving mere inches between the two of them. She did not flinch away as he caressed her cheek and smiled. "And you will not take no for an answer."


	8. We've got scars from battles nobody won

_We've got scars from battles nobody won..._

Oliver assaulted Digg with attack after attack, finally finding his rhythm again. His movements were stronger, faster and more precise with each hour of training he put in. And with each milestone of progress, he marked another span of time without Felicity by his side. He found himself thinking of her less and less, admitting to himself that dwelling on the past and their brief happiness would hinder his improvement.

So he kept her out of his mind while on the sparring mats or out on unnecessary patrol. He kept her out of his mind when he was spending time with Digg and his family, watching their child grow and learn. He kept her out of his mind when he pestered Waller for more information on the League and the whereabouts of known assassins. But he couldn't keep her from his mind when he was alone.

In the stillness of the foundry when all the lights were out and computers were shut down, her smile and bright eyes were constantly there, behind his eyelids, greeting him in his brooding contemplation. He imagined the moment he might finally find her, but the images were jumbled and a mixture of positives and terrifying negatives. Cheerful, colorful Felicity with her adorable skirts and perfect ponytail. Hooded, deadly assassin Felicity staring him down with blank eyes and dangerous intent. And, worse of all, pale lifeless Felicity, sprawled on the ground in a pool of blood with her dead eyes staring through him.

He shook his head, willing the spectres from his head. _Thinking of her doesn't help the situation..._

As he crawled into bed, his phone buzzed. He stayed still for a moment, his eyes closed in an attempt to even out his breathing. He grabbed his phone and opened his eyes, seeing Amanda Waller's name on the caller I.D.

"What?" he answered, unwilling to be friendly.

"We have visual on a blonde assassin crossing rooftops in the Glades."

The sentence escalated his heartbeat and breathing, so calm moments before, and he couldn't keep his fingers from twitching. He went straight for the case with his suit and bow.

"We aren't sure if it is Sara or Felicity, but we know for certain the assassin is blonde." The words lingered as he put the phone down, on speaker, and began to suit up. After a few moments, Waller's voice met his ears. "Do you want us to move in, or do you have this?"

Without hesitation, as he pulled on his jacket and threw up the hood, he growled out: "You can't _afford_ to move in." With that jab, he ended the call and shouldered his quiver and made for the foundry's exit, his bow gripped tightly in his hand.

The security door leading out onto the alley slammed shut behind him, the electric locks whirring into position. He stood in the alley, letting the cool night air hit his face. He was angry. He was desperate. He was unwilling to meet the inevitable. The grip on his bow relaxed considerably until it dropped to the ground, splashing in a lonely puddle at his feet. It was only then that he realized his hands were shaking.

He knew he should call Digg. He knew it would be best to go into the confrontation with someone by his side, grounding him with wisdom. Digg was his brother in every way but blood – a relationship built on respect and trust and choice – and Oliver knew the smart route would be to call Digg.

But he didn't.

He crouched down and picked up his bow, whipping it around to rid it of moisture. He glanced up at the sky, finding thick clouds hanging low, obscuring the tops of Starling's skyscrapers; Queen Consolidated loomed in the distance, half its logo hidden by the elements. It fit his mood.

Finally he moved. And he did it quickly, shooting up a fire escape onto a nearby rooftop to rush through the Glades. He prowled the rooftops with a hunter's intensity. Quiet, swift movements and keen awareness. He used every skillset he had obtained over the years to keep himself aware of his surroundings. But he was still taken off guard when he looked up to see the hooded figure a few buildings over.

She was shrouded in shadow, standing with her hands wrapped around a bo staff, one finger tapping impatiently. Without seeing her face, Oliver knew it was Felicity.

She was tiny, the League armor swallowing her body and engulfing her in a darkness he had tried so hard to keep from her. The blonde hair that fluttered in the chilly breeze was curled at the tips and vibrant like sunshine. It could be no one but her.

The realization hit him hard and he ceased his dash. And then he simply stared.

He knew beneath the hood, Felicity was there somewhere, looking at him and feeling something. She had to be feeling something.

"Are you afraid to meet me head-on, Mr. Queen?" she taunted, and his heart dropped.

It was not the voice he had grown to love. It was not the voice that had whispered into his ear intimately or argued with him angrily. It was not the voice that babbled and ranted and tossed out unintentional innuendos. It was something different.

Something... _wrong_.

His whole body stiffened as her words echoed through the air, and then the rain began to fall. First in thin, inconsequential droplets. But a clap of thunder struck and the clouds released their fury. The downpour shielded her from view, cutting him off and leaving him defenseless. It was as if the whole confrontation had been planned.

Suddenly she was in front of him, spinning the bo staff above her head and cracking it down onto his shoulder. The connection sent him to his knees and he used the opportunity to release a flurry of strikes to her legs with his bow. It wasn't much, but it took her by surprise and he had enough time to rise. They stared at one another again, close enough to touch and close enough to see beneath their hoods.

She was unmasked, as was he. Her eyes were dark and piercing, similar to what he used to see from his own reflection. It sent an angry shiver up his spine, tensing him all over. _She's not supposed to look like this..._

And then she was twirling and he was parrying, avoiding blows and casting out to strike her. The bo staff struck his arms and his legs, bruising his skin. But he didn't care. He retaliated with his bow, slicing and beating against her, avoiding crippling connection but still doling out punishment. And she knew he was holding back.

"Afraid to fight a woman?" she taunted, her staff landing at the small of his back and he crumbled to the ground, hissing in pain. Above him she laughed, kicking him lightly in the ribs with the toe of her boot. He closed his eyes tight, preparing himself to respond. "Not sure why Sensei would want you amongst our ranks. You seem pretty useless to me."

Oliver opened his eyes to see her pacing away from him. With her back turned, she was exposed and he launched up and into her, tackling her to the ground. She cursed, squirming and flailing in an attempt to break free, but Oliver's grip was tight on her arms. He was on top of her, letting his weight keep her pinned. "Felicity, please... you-"

"I am not Felicity. I am Nuri," she said coldly, her frantic breath hitting his face in puffs. "I am the Great Sensei's light."

The words shattered Oliver's slight confidence._ She is _my_ light. Not some madman's_.

The hesitation he experienced at her words was his undoing. Suddenly they were surrounded and he was being dragged away. His bow was slung over another assassin's shoulders and they were taking his quiver. As he struggled, the woman he once knew as Felicity Smoak grabbed her staff and, with a smile, swung at the side of his head. Then everything was black.

* * *

Oliver awoke in the middle of a great hall filled with roaring flames. Without a full grasp at his surroundings he knew he was in the den of the assassins. _No other place could feel this cold and unfeeling._ Around him, hooded men and women stood watch, their hands wrapped tightly around their chosen weapons: swords and staffs and bows. The shadows within their hoods hid their faces from view and made their vigil so impersonal. Oliver groaned as he sat up.

With a quick blink to clear his head, he looked toward the front of the hall. A tall man stood there, facing away, staring at a pool of steaming water. Candles were scattered about the edges, reflecting off the swirling pool. And beside him stood Felicity, her hood down and hair a flurry of blonde curls. He longed to run his fingers through it like he used to.

Moments passed and fires crackled, lulling Oliver into unwanted daydreams that constantly trickled into nightmares. His heart ached for the peace he had shared with her in the months after Slade's invasion on Starling; a peace he couldn't remember ever feeling in his life. He longed for the little apartment they had shared. He longed for their talks and laughs and kisses. He longed for everything.

And then the doors of the hall opened to the protestations of a familiar voice.

"Get your hands off me!" Sara shouted, struggling against her bonds. When she caught sight of Oliver, her attempts at escape ended. "No... Ollie..."

"It's okay, Sara."

She shook her head and Oliver grew nervous. Something in her eyes told him something was wrong. They darted around the room, fixating for a moment on Felicity before returning to stare Oliver down. Her hair was an unwashed mess and the circles beneath her eyes told of her lengthy captivity. "Oliver..."

With that, Sensei and Felicity turned, perfectly in sync. Oliver watched in fear and awe.

"Our plans are in motion and there's not much more to be done," the man proclaimed, his voice echoing off the walls and trembling in Oliver's chest. Sensei's gaze slid toward Sara before he continued. "In order to build this order anew, we must cleanse it of all threats and blemishes. We must become stronger and more efficient. All weakness must be cut away." He turned to Felicity and the smile that formed on his lips sent a terrified chill through Oliver's body. "You know what you must do, Nuri," he said, gesturing toward Sara.

The guards holding Sara brought her forward, into the center of the hall, and then sent her to her knees roughly. "You can't do this! The Demon's Head and his heir will seek out vengeance!" she shouted, her eyes imploring Felicity to stop. Oliver's heart began to thunder in his chest, aching with each beat.

"That is our hope, child," Sensei replied. "And their plots _will_ fail."

The confidence in Sensei's voice was sinister and deadly. Oliver glanced at Felicity to find her striding toward Sara, a blade in her hand glinting in the firelight. Her steps were quiet and precise, so different from the gait he was used to – all heels and occasional clumsiness. How the little feet were light like a cat hunting prey. And, it seemed, Sara was the prey.

Felicity came up behind Sara, her face blank. No emotion. No glimmer of the friendship that had formed between them. Nothing familiar or warm, bubbly or quirky. The personality he had fallen in love with was no more, and it broke his heart to see it.

Felicity grasped at Sara's scalp and tilted her head head back, letting their eyes meet. "Don't worry. Your lover will meet you soon enough."

Time slowed to a painful crawl. The blade flashed and arrived at Sara's exposed neck, then dragged excruciatingly slow through the skin, slicing the muscles beneath before reaching the artery. Blood seeped out in a slow, crimson waterfall, staining Sara's clothing and paling skin before pooling around her on the stone floor. Her eyes dimmed as they fell to Oliver's, one tear glistening on her cheek.

Felicity's hand dropped to her side and the knife clattered to the ground.

Oliver watched that hand, seeing a flicker of reaction that seemed uncharacteristic for an assassin in such a heartless organization. Assassins were trained to kill without remorse. Assassins were trained to simply see targets as paycheck or a way to justice. Assassin were trained to be ruthless.

They were trained not to let their hands shake.

But Felicity's bloodstained hand was definitely shaking.


	9. We could start over, better

_We could start over, better…_

Oliver wasn't sure how long he had been sitting in the dark cell. All he could focus on was replaying that one moment over in his mind. It was on repeat, eating away at him, leaving him feeling empty. But he knew what he had glimpsed after the blade had sliced through Sara's neck. He knew he wasn't wrong.

Felicity was back. The shaking hand had been enough to know.

He knew Felicity wasn't a violent person. She never had been. She could get angry and argue herself hoarse, but she was no fighter. Everything she had done in Sensei's name had been through suggestion… brainwashing. Oliver was sure of it.

The moment the blade had clattered to the floor, he knew. The moment he saw drops of blood trickling from her hand due to the intensity of her trembling, he was completely certain.

Sara's death had triggered Felicity's true self.

And with that knowledge, the waiting and the coldness of the cell was torture enough. Oliver longed to hold her, to reassure her. To convince her that her actions would not change how he felt. _There was nothing she could have done._

A single sliver of light fell onto his face from the gap at the bottom of the door as a flame neared in the hallway, signaling someone's approach. He listened. He could hear two sets of footsteps, each attempting to be silent but Oliver's awareness was heightened in the darkness. He waited as they toiled over the many locks, listening as each one clicked and turned. He contemplated catching them off guard and making an escape, but without his bow, he feared he would never make it out alive. Especially not alone. So he waited.

The door to his cell opened and he squinted against the torchlight. "Nuri requests your presence," one assassin said as he pulled Oliver to his feet.

"Why?" he asked, trying to feign disgust to shroud his excitement.

"We do not question her," the other assassin growled.

They walked through dark hallways and through empty rooms, the ancientness of the place overwhelming. And it was cold, seeping through Oliver's leathers and making him shiver, his bare feet ice against the stone. The only relief was the torch.

Soon they were at a set of ornate doors, knocking. "Come in," came Felicity's reply, quick and cold. But he could hear the nervousness and worry beneath.

They opened one door and pushed Oliver through. Before they could follow, Felicity dismissed them. "Thank you, I can take it from here." Oliver glanced at the assassins, finding them bowing before turning away, shutting the door behind them.

Oliver looked about the room. It was luxurious, accented with reds and blacks, lit by dozens of candles. The canopied bed was a mess of rustled sheets and discarded League armor and a table by the balcony was topped with an open bottle of wine. Red wine.

With that, he finally turned to Felicity.

She was pacing, a golden goblet clutched tightly in her still shaking hand. She was clothed in a long black robe, the sleeves deep and belled. It was cinched at the waist, hugging her curves. He knew without a doubt that it was simply her naked body beneath.

His gaze rose to her face and his heart ached.

Her eyes were swollen from freshly shed tears and her hair was tangled. She was watching him intensely. "Oliver..." she murmured, so broken and desperate.

He rushed to her, letting his arms encircle her in warmth and reassurance. "Oh, Felicity, baby. It's okay... it's gonna be okay," he whispered into her hair as she cracked once more, letting more tears flow. Her whole body shook with her sobs and he just held her, being the rock he always tried to be for her. As her arms wrapped around his waist, her goblet fell to the floor, empty. "Shh, Felicity... it's okay. I'm here now."

Through her sobs, she attempted to speak. "I...didn't m-mean to… I didn't know w-what I was doing."

He smoothed her hair. "Felicity, shh… I understand. I know."

She pulled away, looking up at him with crying eyes and a raised brow. "You do?"

He nodded. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on her lips, silencing her sobs and ceasing her shaking. For a moment she remained completely still, her breathing slowing. Then she wiped at her eyes.

"I don't know how he did it," she murmured, looking away, almost in shame. "I had fought him for so long and then… somehow I disappeared. Then I awoke with Sara's blood on my hands."

"Felicity, you don't need to explain," he said, bringing her back to him, his arms squeezing her gently. "I'm just glad to have you back."

She glanced up at him for a moment, and he could see the relief and joy spreading through her in waves. New tears trickled down her cheeks, and he didn't attempt to squelch them. _These are happy tears,_ he thought. _These are the only tears I want to see._

Then she was reaching up on her tiptoes, letting her lips brush his. The months she had been gone rushed back to him, reminding him of the pain and the worry and the torturous unknown. These feelings that he had resided in for so long propelled him forward into the kiss, deepening it to express everything he couldn't say.

She responded, tilting her head to the side to give them better access. Her tongue danced along his bottom lip, teasing him and he let out a low growl. _God, I've missed this._

Her hands fell to his jacket zipper, slowly undoing it. The skin beneath was chilled despite the leather, and her warm hands met his temperature, causing him to shiver. She trailed a path of goosebumps along his chest and abs, never breaking their kiss. Within moments, his jacket was off and she was tracing his scars and his tattoo the way she used to. He loved her acceptance. Her respect.

As her hands fell to the waistband of his pants, he teased the skin beneath the collar of her robe. She sighed.

She pushed his pants down and he pulled her robe aside, exposing her porcelain skin and he was instantly lost. It had been too long without her. It had been too long worrying. Too long fretting over every possible outcome. He stepped out of his leathers and watched as the robe dropped from her shoulders. She had bruises and scars all along her arms and stomach, much like the ones he had gained at the hands of Slade on the island. They were training scars, but he longed to caress them away.

She grasped his hand and slowly led him to the bed, her steps so much more quiet than they had been before her capture. She pushed him down, letting him fall onto the mass of blanket and pillows. She followed, straddling him with a desperate grin. He let his hands roam beneath the fabric of her robe, savoring the smoothness of her legs and the curves of her hips. He pulled, letting the robe untie and fall open completely. His fingers traced the lines of each fresh scar along her ribs, knowing she was finally able to understand how luxurious the sensation was for him. To have someone who accepted the imperfections such struggles left behind. Her eyes closed at each touch.

He wasn't sure when they had joined together, but he was thrusting and she was moaning, and he wasn't complaining. He had dreamt of this moment, knowing it might never come. And now they he had it, he wasn't going to let go. He kept her in his arms, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as she rocked atop him, her hips so much stronger than they had once been. He trailed kisses down her neck, against her collarbone and to her breasts, whispering after each one: "I love you…"

And after each moan or sigh, Felicity replied: "I love you too…"

* * *

He admired her body as she walked to the table to retrieve the bottle of wine. He had discovered more scars and bruises along her back and legs with each new exploration, and he was certain he had kisses them all. But the sight of them sent an ache into his heart. When she turned back to him, her shoulders slumped. "Should I put the robe back on?"

He shook his head. "No," he said, forcing a smile onto his lips. "I don't want you to be ashamed of them." When she crawled back onto the bed he grasped her waist and dragged her to him, pressing a long, gentle kiss onto a bruise on her shoulder. "I want you to wear them with pride."

She frowned. "I will once we get out of this mess."

"And how will we do that?" he asked, taking a swig from the bottle. The wine was rich on his tongue, reminding him of how strong the taste had been on Felicity's lips hours ago.

"Sensei has to solidify his rule over the League, and to do that he must eliminate any possible threats."

"Okay…?"

"The only known threat is Ra's al Ghul and his daughter, Nyssa."

Oliver's brow raised. "He wants to kill them?"

Felicity nodded, taking the bottle from him. After one long gulp, she wiped her mouth and said: "The plan is already underway." Oliver watched her, seeing the fear and hesitation in her eyes as she forced herself to remember what she had done under suggestion. "He used me to set up a feed that would reach any devices Ra's might have been using to contact allies. Without a doubt, Nyssa has seen Sara's… murder."

Oliver's eyes narrowed as the truth reached him. "He's using Sara's death to bring Ra's and Nyssa back to Nanda Parbat. He plans on eliminating them upon arrival."

"Yes," Felicity confirmed, taking a deep breath. "If we can somehow turn the fight back on Sensei, we might be able to end this."

"Fight alongside Ra's to destroy Sensei."

They sat in silence, the candles around the room one-by-one fluttering out, the only light being the moonlight trickling in past the curtains at the balcony. The air was cool, but their bodies were warm against one another. He kept her close, unwilling to let her go again. She nuzzled against his shoulder, her breath tickling his skin. He took the bottle from her and set it on the ground beside the bed, refusing to allow them to lose alertness.

"You were a ruthless fighter under the influence of Sensei's brainwashing, but do you still have those skills?" he asked, letting his hand brush through her hair, gently untangling it.

Suddenly she was pulling his hand, twisting it painfully as she flipped him onto his stomach, digging her knee into his back. He felt her mouth against his ear and her hair ghosting against his neck. "Does this answer your question?"

Without a word, he broke away from her, pinning her beneath him with just as much speed as she had. He had her arms held above her head, wrists confined within one hand, and he leaned down, scattering kisses along her ribs and breasts. "Is it wrong that I found that incredibly sexy?" he asked as he brought his lips to hers.

"No," she said, her voice trembling slightly with desire. "Because I find _this_ incredibly sexy." He shifted her legs, letting them fall into place against his hips, but she shook her head. "Oliver, as much as I want this, and believe me, _I want this_… We really do need to plan."

He groaned in annoyance and nodded. "You're right," he said, releasing her hands and collapsing onto the bed next to her. "So how do we fool Sensei?"

"He knows you'd do anything to get me back. Perhaps he'll believe that you'd join the League to do so."

They cuddled in silence as he thought about everything. Felicity had been kidnapped by the League after he had refused to join. "Are you sure this wasn't the plan all along?"

Felicity's mouth fell open and she closed her eyes, clearly fighting back uncertainty. When she reopened them, she turned her face to meet his gaze and she frowned. "Even if that was his plan, we have to do whatever we can to end this."

Oliver let that hang in the air, just above them, like a gloomy cloud threatening rain. _So much could go wrong with this…_ he thought, pulling Felicity closer to him, fitting her into the curve of his body perfectly. _But if it works, we could go back home. We could be together normally. We could have the life we have dreamed of._

With a deep breath and a kiss to her temple, he feigned a confident grin and whispered: "Do I get a ridiculous set of armor like yours?"


	10. I've been to hell and back

_I've been to hell and back, and I went with you..._

They stood straight and unmoving, looking down upon a valley on the outskirts of the Nanda Parbat compound. Oliver's hand twitched, longing for his bow... the bow Felicity had gotten him. At his hip was a sword and along the same belt hung numerous knives, throwing stars and other weapons he had never thought he would ever utilize. The League truly made him a weapon, and it felt strange.

In all of his time as the vigilante, he hadn't felt so lethal. As the vigilante he had killed, but he had also spared lives, handing them over to police to let justice be served. But in the robes and armor of the League, no stone could be left unturned. All lives were at stake. He was a killer. His sword would bring death to anyone within swinging distance, and there was no other choice left.

He took a deep breath. _Keep deaths to a minimum. Target is Sensei._

Beside him, he sensed Felicity's nervousness. Her hands were wrapped tight around her staff, fingers threaded together, losing circulation. He longed to touch them, to ease her nerves and cease her fretting. But he couldn't let their ruse drop. So he rested his hand along the sword hilt, stretching his fingers in the hopes Felicity noticed and took the hint.

Within a few moments she relaxed her grip and he glimpsed a slight smile on her lips.

Down in the valley, two figures were walking toward them, one hooded and the other clothed in a flowing cloak. Oliver recalled the face of Ra's al Ghul in the photo Waller had shown him. Hinting at great wisdom and heartache beneath the facade of middle age, the Demon's Head commanded attention even within the confines of a photograph; even if he was on the run from his father and trying to remain inconspicuous. He was a leader, born and bred. No question. And striding toward the small gathering of assassins and his intimidating father, he showed no fear. He was confident. Oliver could see it even from a distance.

He took another deep breath. _The plan will work… The plan will work…_

As the two close the distance, Oliver thinks back to the previous few days. The training. The preparation. The stolen kisses and touches. Everything they had faced in the last few months had lead them to this moment, standing alongside Sensei, ominously greeting the doomed son and granddaughter.

He took another deep breath, closing his eyes to find moments flickering through his mind, reminding him of how much had changed.

_"You're too slow!" Felicity shouted, swinging her sword with deft twirls. "Weren't you faster before?"_

_He huffed. "I'm out of practice, Felicity."_

_She swung at him, her eyes bright with feigned rage. He blocked her, straining against her newly gained strength. She leaned forward, over their crossed blades and kissed his nose. "My name is _Nuri_, Oliver… You have to get that right."_

_He sighed, letting his blade slide away from hers and he pulled her into his chest, kissing her forehead before whispering into her ear: "You will always be Felicity."_

The memory fell away and Oliver looked out over the land. Ra's and Nyssa were getting closer, their features becoming more distinct with each stride gained, and the expression on Nyssa's face had Oliver's heart sinking. It was not the face of a woman who might be willing to work with them. It was the face of a woman dead-set on revenge, and he understood the feeling wholeheartedly.

He took a deep breath, calming his newfound nerves, keeping them bogged down deep within himself in a way only his time in hell had taught him. He let his mind wander back to his memories.

_"You're telling me I can't use my bow?" he complained, jaw tight and his voice low. "That's the weapon I am most proficient with."_

_Felicity sighed. "You're a master at all forms of combat, Oliver. You've showcased that repeatedly. You can use a sword just as well as you can use a bow. And, to be honest, the way you swing that sword is…"_

_Her flirtation was cut off with the opening of the training room doors and Sensei's arrival. "I am told you've shown great skill wielding a sword, Mr. Queen."_

_Oliver straightened and nodded. "Yes, Great Sensei."_

_"Would you care to demonstrate your prowess against Nuri?"_

_Oliver's head snapped to the side, finding Felicity's face devoid of emotion as she stared at Sensei. He looked back to the leader and nodded. "Of course, Great Sensei."_

_He unsheathed the sword and faced Felicity, eyeing her stance and the intensity of her gaze. She was going to sell the ruse, and he needed to as well. Without hesitation, he thrusted forward, sending his blade out and toward her exposed stomach. She blocked quickly and then spun about, the blade reflecting the flames scattered about the room. She was beautiful… in a way he had never expected to see. He parried, playing defense as she assaulted him. But she never got a blade past his. They danced around one another, their blades singing in the quiet while Sensei watched, scrutinizing their movements. And Oliver was conscious of the scrutiny. He couldn't go easy on Felicity in the presence of Sensei._

_As Felicity spun, he saw an opportunity to strike, and he took it. With one quick swing, he sliced at her side, cutting a long line along her ribs. She hissed and her sword dropped. For a moment, her practiced mask fell away and she was displaying hurt and shock and pain. He shook his head slightly in warning as Sensei's eyes rested on her fallen weapon. She clutched her side and bowed to Oliver._

_"Very good, Mr. Queen," Sensei said._

The memory faded and Oliver found Ra's al Ghul coming to a stop at the edge of the compound, his cloak fluttering in the harsh winds. Beside him Nyssa glared at Felicity, her eyes dark and unforgiving. Oliver could feel the fear radiating off of Felicity and he couldn't stop her from feeling it. Nothing could take that fear away from her.

"We have come as you have beckoned," Ra's said, his hand resting on the hilt glinting at his side. It was ornate and ancient, and Oliver knew Sensei longed to take possession of it. "But we do not come to you as allies. We are foes, and we will take back the League."

"I will avenge Sara!" Nyssa shouted, her voice breaking at the end of the name. Ra's raised a hand to keep her silent and she stepped back slightly, not quite cowering but relinquishing her outward rage. Oliver could see it flickering within her eyes.

"This would all be so much easier if you simply bowed at the feet of your father," Sensei said condescendingly. "But, you've made your choice." He drew his own sword. It was long and just as ancient, made of a darker steel than most Oliver had ever seen.

With this action, Sensei signaled for Oliver and Felicity to move forward. With a slight glance between them, they obeyed. Behind them, the other assassins trailed, anxious of the impending fight. And with a slight nod, Oliver and Felicity turned, bringing their blades down onto the unsuspecting assassins, slicing at armor and flesh. They fell to the ground, quickly trampled by their comrades. They struck the others down as well, blades bright red with blood.

In no time, the only enemy left to them was Sensei.

He eyed them with undetectable emotion, face calm.

Oliver kept Felicity close at his side as he backed them away from the pile of bodies, separating them from Sensei's impending wrath. As he came to the side of Ra's al Ghul, he bowed his head in respect. "We are on your side," Oliver murmured.

Ra's watched them for a moment before nodding. "You've shown great courage and skill."

Oliver wasn't sure if it was praise or an acceptance of their help, but Ra's drew his sword, beckoning for Nyssa to follow.

"I will not fight alongside _her_," she spat out, eyes narrowed at Felicity.

"You will obey your father," Ra's commanded, his voice echoing through the air. "And, for now, they are our allies."

Before any further argument could be made, Sensei surged forward, sword raised, ready to swing at Ra's. The four of them met Sensei in the middle, finding the man faster than them in every way. They sliced at air instead of flesh, missing him by fractions as he parried and blocked. Oliver combined his swings with punches, connecting his fist with Sensei's hard shoulders, his hand coming back aching and aflame.

Felicity danced about, her slight frame giving her an advantage. She would kneel or crouch or roll away from Sensei's swings, slowly getting close enough to slice at his legs before escaping new assaults.

Ra's met his father as an equal, catching his sword against the blade of his father's with practiced strength and poise. The ease with which he fought was mesmerizing, and Oliver could sense that Sensei, deep down, felt some level of pride in his son.

And all the while, Nyssa kicked and swung at the sidelines, keeping her eyes on Felicity the entire time. Oliver tried to keep himself between the two women, unwilling to trust the fragile alliance they had formed moments before. _Once Sensei is defeated, she won't hesitate…_ The thought flashed in his mind, repeating like a chant, triggering his protectiveness. With renewed fervor, he attempted to keep them apart while continuing his assault on Sensei.

Then the moment arose.

Sensei swung, aiming for Ra's and leaving his chest open for only a moment. Oliver took the opportunity, thrusting his sword through Sensei's chest, up into his heart. For a moment, all seemed perfect. The job had been done. The sword was buried. The heart would stop beating. As Oliver's grip left the sword and Sensei stepped backward, he saw his mistake. A man like Sensei would not go down without securing one death. And his sword was still in his hand.

With his dying breath, Sensei sent his blade piercing through Oliver's stomach. Deep inside, he could feel organs ripping and vessels snapping, all along the blade's edge as it slid through and out his back. He was on his knees in moments with Felicity's scream ringing in his ears.

"Oliver!" she cried, rushing to his side. The sword remained buried in his body, Sensei's death leaving his handiwork unfinished. Oliver's eyes lingered on Felicity's shaking hands as she cupped his face, eyes overflowing with tears. "Oliver, please, stay with me!"

He tried to speak, to tell her everything he never had and everything he wished he had said more often, but he couldn't make a sound. Deep in his throat he could feel the blood building, threatening its way up toward his mouth. _Not much longer now._

As Felicity fought to keep his eyes open and trained on her, he watched as Nyssa came up to them. Standing behind Felicity, she drew a lengthy dagger from her belt and brought it to his beloved's neck. "This is for Sara," she hissed out, her face cold and harsh like stone. And then she dragged it across Felicity's porcelain skin, severing the artery and opening her throat.

Oliver's eyes welled with tears as he watched Felicity's eyes grow wide and her skin slowly pale. Her mouth filled with blood in the same moment as his, and they both collapsed onto the ground, her hands still resting on his cheeks. He reached up and trailed his finger along her jaw, remembering all the times he had kissed a path there, angling down to more luxurious locations.

Felicity's body stilled and her hands dropped from his face and his world darkened.

He let the darkness lead him into one last memory before he succumbed to the void.

_"I can't believe you actually cut me!" Felicity growled as they entered her room. "You weren't supposed to-"_

_He silenced her with a kiss before leading her over to the bed. He gently peeled away her robe and exposed the wound. It wasn't deep, but the sword had been excruciatingly sharp. It was a clean cut, easily mended. He grabbed some rags and a bowl of water and cleaned the excess blood away from the edges. The contact made her muscles contract and he glanced up, finding her biting her bottom lip to silence her sobs. "I'm sorry, Felicity." he murmured as he cleaned out the wound and began wrapping a bandage around her torso._

_"You had to do it," she finally conceded, her voice still tight with stubbornness._

_He tied off the bandage and then reached up, cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand. "It didn't make it easy to do," he admitted, leaning forward to kiss her nose. "If only there were something that could take the pain away."_

_She smiled slightly, wiping at her eyes. "Your lips are definitely making me feel better."_


	11. Let the broken pieces go

_Let the broken pieces...go.._

He awoke beneath the water, but he wasn't choking. He wasn't struggling.

Above the surface, he could hear chanting and see the flickering of candlelight, distorted by the swirling current around him. He tried to recall how he had gotten there, but the only thing he remembered was Felicity's tearstained face as she whispered she loved him between winces of pain. But, beneath that, he sensed something greater. Something so much more painful.

And then it hit.

Everything came crashing back.

Felicity was dead. _But if she's dead, so am I, right?_

The question plagued him as he floated there, the water cleansing him and rejuvenating him. He listened as the chanting grew louder before finally falling away. Then a booming voice broke through the water. "Rise!"

Suddenly he was being propelled up and out of the water, his body meeting the cold air of the great hall in Nanda Parbat. As his eyes adjusted to the world above, he saw Ra's al Ghul staring at him, flanked by Nyssa's smug glare and a priestess nodding excitedly. His heart sank.

_The rumors were true. He can bring people back from the dead. But he didn't bring back Felicity._

They brought him a robe and wrapped him up with a strange affection, tipping him off that something was desperately wrong. As he sat at the edge of the pool and sipped red wine from a goblet, Ra's began to speak.

"You showed such strength and resilience against my father, and you dealt the killing blow. I felt the need to honor you."

"You should have left me dead," Oliver croaked out, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

"Perhaps, but I didn't." Ra's began to pace, his hands clasped behind his back. "I have honored you with the gift of a second life, and therefore you will honor me with your obedience. You are no longer Oliver Queen."

"What do you mean?"

"Your name is Al Sah-him, and you will be like a son to me." Nyssa grew tense and Oliver caught a flicker of movement at the far end of the hall. "You will join our family through a marriage to my daughter." When Oliver's eyes flashed to Nyssa, Ra's laughed. "No, no… I would not trust her with such a duty. No. I have another daughter."

The movement Oliver had caught before flashed again and then a figure came into view. A woman with dark hair and dark, angled eyes stepped forward, wrapped in a flowing robe and adorned with jewels.

"This is my daughter, Talia al Ghul. She is your bride."

"Not by choice," she spat, sending a glare in the direction of her father.

"Your infatuation with the young Wayne heir must end. This is your future."

Without further discussion, a pair of assassins grasped Oliver by the arms and dragged him out of the hall. Within moments they were in Felicity's old room and a wave of grief crashed over him. Once the door was shut and he was alone, he let the tears escape. Sobs wracked through him and he collapsed onto the bed.

The sheets still smelled of her.

As he gripped the fabric, his fingers wrapped around a piece of paper. He glanced up.

A single sheet of stationary rested on the bed, crinkled from his grip.

With hesitation, he unfolded it and began to read. With each word, his heart raced and threatened to escape his chest.

_Oliver,_

_I know how to bring your beloved back to you. Give me time. I can get us back into the arms of those we love._

_Truthfully,_

_Talia_

* * *

_Author's Note: Thank you for reading. I started this story last year and it has been a very long, uncertain ride. I was unsure if I would ever finish it. But, I did. I hope you enjoyed it, even though it was painful. Please leave a review with comments and questions regarding this story! I'd appreciate your thoughts (well, ones outside of 'OMG HOW DARE YOU!). Thank you, again, for reading!_


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